Aphasia
by TheNaughtyBits
Summary: Harry comes back from the Dursley's unable or unwilling to speak. Sirius vows to find out why. T for now, eventual RLSBHP
1. Chapter 1 : Dead Victory

Ok, so this is very minutely rewritten, but for this chapter at least, it's more of an edit. If I missed anything or typo-ed, please, hasten to tell me so I can fix. Shock horror, chapters now have (bladly fitting) titles, and I should have hovered up most of the continuity errors that were eating away at my love of writing this. This story is kinda in three parts now I'm definite with where it's headed, so it has three parts, the first, Aphasia.

I wasn't going to post this until I found a suitable title as aphasia doesn't quite fit, but I like it. It isn't quite accurate as Harry has no medical reason for his lack of speech (no brain lesions) and has no trouble comprehending the written or spoken word, but is still affected by a lack of speech. Aphasia, comes from the Greek: _a_ "without" _phasis _"utterance," from _phanai_ "to speak". Also with this, there are time jumps in this chapter, which I hope are made obvious.

Disclaimer: I do not own. Harry is Sirius(and Remus)' bitch and Sirius is Remus's, I just like to play with them.

**Aphasia**

**Chapter 1 : Dead Victory**

"Harry..." Sirius murmured, pulling the black-haired teenager aside to a shadowy alcove of Grimmauld Place by one of his cold, thin wrists. "I don't care what they just said in there, Harry. It doesn't matter" He stooped slightly to look straight into his godson's green eyes. "I don't care; I'm not going to leave you to those Muggles, Harry. I won't stand for it, not again. I won't abandon you."

Harry's eyes stared back, dull and lifeless; silent disbelief obvious in the muted boy's form. Sirius restrained a sigh with difficultly, and he bent forward to clasp Harry's hand. The blue eyes were firm and sincere.

"I promise. I'm not going to leave you."

For one frail, precious second, Harry believed his godfather. Staring up into those serious eyes he could sense no joke or deception. His prison, the world of grey flickered for a second, allowing the scene to light with colour. His frozen heart leapt, a brief pang of warmth striking in the midst of an arctic blizzard, and just for a fleeting moment, his hand squeezed back.

Then, the Order started spilling out of the kitchen, small-talking noisily and Harry was gone, vanishing like a ghost, without sound or trace. Sirius didn't pretend to smile for the people he'd just battled so vehemently with, but he shook their hands and wished them well. Mrs. Weasley came out of the kitchen and smiled at him, murmuring briefly about plans for dinner, although Sirius could see her itching to console him on his defeat. For once, she had been on his side, agreeing that Harry, who now never spoke at all, should not be allowed to return to his muggle home. The long haired man nodded mindlessly, without listening and climbed the stairs to Buckbeak's room, not looking back. People knew to leave him alone when he went there. He bowed to the magnificent beast before him, shutting the door and allowing himself to slide down the wall, until he sat, throwing Buckbeak a rat from the bag at his feet. He sighed.

Nobody knew what had happened to Harry, why he'd come back on summer from the Dursley's disinclined to speak beyond a few sparse words but it was something that bothered Sirius. And with the rapid rise in exasperated attempts to force the boy to speak, some of which being his own, Harry spoke fewer words still until one day, he didn't speak at all. At first, Dumbledore had been rather impressed with Harry's talent for wordless magic, which was developing easily with the continual practice, "Such an unexpected advantage!" but then, he too had become concerned when it didn't turn out to be 'just a phase' as the old man had hoped. The wizened wizard had even gone so far as to visit the Dursley's, which earned him nothing more than an earful of abuse.

Sirius had spent ages trying to find out the cause, then gave up and sought for a solution, although numerous trips to St. Mungo's proved futile. Harry was perfectly healthy; he was simply just choosing not to speak, greeting all questions with the same vacant stare. But what was the reason? Now, hopeless, Sirius saw nothing else to do but accept Harry's silence, having no idea how else to try to make him speak. Tempers in the headquarters grew shorter with The-Boy-Who-Lived, whose presence grew more translucent everyday. Some members of the Order were starting to lose faith; to think of and plan ways of winning he war without him. How important was a prophecy anyway?

Sirius, however, refused to give up. He found that Harry's looks were easy enough to read, even if they betrayed worryingly little emotion. Remus had told him it was probably the wisest thing to do to allow Harry to work through whatever it was in his own time and on his own terms, but Mrs. Weasley shot him angry glares and hissed that he was encouraging it, and insinuated once, that, perhaps, he was the cause. Part of him worried indeed he was as Harry spoke less, but instinct told him what he was doing was better than the nagging that seemed to tire Harry in seconds. He'd thought bringing Harry home for Easter might help, not that Grimmauld Place was really a home anymore with all the people rushing about. He'd been hoping to see if he could make Harry smile by feeding him up on chocolate and jovial memories, as in the time the boy had been silent, Sirius had yet to seem him smile. That was always what had worked with Remus when they were young, but with Harry, it failed. When he'd spoken with Hermione, she'd said the same thing; no one had seen Harry smile. At school Harry responded to everything with so little emotion or enthusiasm, people started to call him 'robot-boy'. The emerald eyed boy even failed to respond after his cauldron spilt, when a frustrated Snape gave him four weeks detention and extra homework until the end of the year.

The end of this summer would mark a full year of silence, if not longer, as there was no telling how long he'd been silent before he returned to school. The blue-eyed man had been shocked to see how his classmates had responded to Harry's change. He'd expected to see kindness, concern, compassion, a show of genuine friendship, but had been disappointed. None of them had time for Harry anymore. Like the Gryffindors they were, they didn't shun him, their pride wouldn't let them, but they ignored his silence, speaking in falsely bright voices and no longer involving him in any real conversation, treating him as if all intelligence had faded with his voice. They didn't even bother to include him anymore, even with tasks as mundane as de-Gnoming Grimmauld Place' courtyard garden. Any time they did spend with him was seemed to be on a rota, and even that, they seemed to avoid whenever there was an excuse.

--

A full term later, Harry couldn't remember his godfather's promise. If he didn't take a nightly Sleeping Draught than he might have been able to remember the dreams of it that interspersed his nightmares, but as he did, he couldn't. Now, he sat, excluded by inclusion into a carriage of couples, who talked and joked without him as the Hogwarts Express rattled south. They, the group that used to consider themselves Harry's friends, had gotten used to his presence, his silence, remarkably quickly and none of them noticed now when he slipped away. He had become like a shadow, but like a shadow, he wasn't alive. He didn't really exist, and everyday he became more convinced of it; he was an imitation of life, a mere memory, barely taking part in anything at all. The train stopped, and, in Muggle clothing, Harry grabbed his trunk and his absent owl's cage, joining the bustling crowds piling of the train. It wasn't manners that made him hold back and let a group of second year Ravenclaws go first, but Hermione still beamed at him anyway.

"Have a good summer, Harry." She smiled, pulling him into a hug. Harry didn't feel it, and barely nodded, not noticing his hand loosely shaken by Ron and dropped, or Ginny's kiss to the air beside his face. No longer did he wonder how contact could be made without feeling, and ignored it, shuddering to be free from it. The Weasley's were standing in a gaggle on the platform, not far from the doors Ron was clambering out of. Harry took a breath and slipped past, unnoticed as always, joining the queue to leave the platform, allowing the crowds of bustling families to mask him from sight.

Then, moments before he took the step across the barrier, a cold wet nose touched his hand, nudging it. Harry jumped, instinctively jarring away from the contact. A large black dog stood by his side, Padfoot, amber-brown eyes gazing up defiantly. Unsure how to react, Harry stepped back into the shadows of a corner beside a surprisingly Muggle looking vending machine. The dog followed.

"I promised I wouldn't leave you alone, Harry." Sirius' form became human, the man staying crouched in the darkest corner. His voice was hoarse and urgent, rushed. He was risking being seen. "Remus will work out where I've gone so you don't have to worry." There was a short pause, a fleeting grin. "I can't leave you unprotected, Harry. Not after last summer. I promised."

Harry stood still for a moment, staring down at the black haired man. His face gave away nothing. Sirius continued, drawing a deep shuddering breath.

"Give this letter to your guardians. I wrote it and it's spelled to look like Dumbledore's handwriting." For a moment, it almost looked like Harry would respond, his mouth opening slightly, and his brow creasing just a tiny bit, but when he didn't, Sirius changed back into Padfoot, and lead him back to rejoin the queue. Then, the moment came for Harry Potter to step back across into King's Cross Station. Siriu thought he heard thhe boy's sigh tremor, and thin, frail fingers ghost across the hairs of his canine back.

--

Vernon Dursley was an irritable man, and one who hated waiting. He was waiting for Harry; another of his pet-hates and stood as if waiting for the next train from platform ten. When he heard Harry approach, his piggy little eyes swivelled to fix the scruffy, abnormal teenage orphan with a disapproving stare. He opened his mouth to spit out the standard snarl of "Your hair needs cutting, boy." when his small eyes found Padfoot. His pupils dilated suddenly.

"What is that?" He asked unnecessarily, knowing no answer would be forth coming, and not particularly caring. He hated dogs. He hated the smell, the look, the teeth and the requirements of all dogs. And this dog looked like Harry his favourite hate, with too long, scruffy black hair, which only gave him reason to hate it more. The puce jowls wobbled dangerously. "It's not getting in my car. My new company car. I got it last week, and that, that _thing_ is not getting in it."

Harry's fingers felt the stiffening of Padfoot's back, and the involuntarily rise in his hackles. Still, the dog sat, obviously trying to seem harmless, despite body language contradicting the gesture. This unnoticed by Harry's uncle, who had snatched the letter from Harry's hands.

_Petunia Dursley_

_The Kitchen, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging._

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

_By order of the Ministry of Magic, Harry has been given a dog, Snuffles, as a personal wizarding guard for Harry for the duration of the summer spent in your home. It is mandatory that the dog accompany Harry everywhere, particularly when he is outside, or when he is asleep. I assure you the dog is very well trained, and will provide some level of protection for your home and family, although Harry is priority. _

_Harry thought, when told he must have a guard, that you would prefer the dog to a couple of wizards arriving on your doorstep everyday. I apologize for any regrettable inconvenience this may cause you and your family, but in the circumstances it is unavoidable. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter._

_Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore. _

_--_

"The dog stays, Vernon." Aunt Petunia announced, sucking on her horse-like teeth, having read the letter no less than three times and closely scrutinized the signature with her beady blue eyes. The large black dog was sitting obediently in the hall, and to this his tail raised once and fell back against the floor. Victory.

"However," The blonde woman glanced at the dog, then glared at Harry, her expression unreadable. "He is to stay with you. You are responsible for anything and everything he does. He isn't allowed in the kitchen, or the living room or any other bedroom aside from your own. Is that clear?"

Harry bowed his head very slightly.

"You are not to let him-" It was Snuffles turn to receive the vicious glare that acted like nature's call was a cardinal sin " go on the front lawn, and woes betide you if I find one single hair on my furniture anywhere in the house." She sniffed, whisking a faded wisp of her hair away behind her ear, and turning to rearrange the jars on the spice rack. Assuming that was his welcome complete, Harry turned and left, walking the short distance along the hall and opening his trunk, starting to empty it of its contents so it was light enough for him to drag upstairs by himself.

Uncle Vernon sat at the kitchen table, angry red fists clenched around a paper, grinding his large, yellowing teeth. His wife began to wipe the spotless surface of the table, replacing conversation with cleaning. Recently defeated in his attempts to have the boy's dog delivered to the abattoir, a bitterness stirred in Uncle Vernon, and he sat staring at the boy moving in the hall, a glint of something malicious playing in his eyes.

Upstairs, Harry was rearranging his room. His mostly-empty trunk lay open, its contents strewn across the bed, and the boy methodically moved things to a suitable position - dreamless sleeping draughts into the draw of bedside table with wand, photograph album and a few books into its cupboard. He was almost mechanical. Padfoot's first response to Harry's room was to thoroughly sniff every corner before finding a piece of carpet next to the desk comfortable enough to lie down on. Still, his observant eyes never left Harry, who when he had finished unpacking, cleaned Hedwig's cage, opened the window and lay down on the bed, sighing ever so softly. Shortly after, Padfoot jumped up next to him and lay down, and after a tense, silent pause, Harry's fingers tangled in the dog's coat.

"Thank you." The boy murmured; his green eyes closing as he drifted into sleep. Padfoot's ears pricked and his tail wagged at the words. Had he been human he wouldn't have caught the breath that shaped into words, the twitch of the full, pink lips. Inside the furry head, Sirius smiled. He was doing the right thing.

_--_


	2. Chapter 2 : The Daily Grind

No, or at least, not so many notes for this one

No, or at least, not so many notes for this one. I'll try to get an update for you soon, and this chapter is now dedicated to Charlie Fox, who got me back to posting and to whom I owe many thanks.

**Aphasia**

**Chapter 2 : The Daily Grind**

Clearly exhausted, Harry slept straight through until ten the next morning, for once without the aid of potion, curled next to Padfoot, fully clothed on top of his duvet. He wasn't expecting the thin curtains to be drawn over the light or a blanket to be carefully draped over his form, but he was grateful and lay for a while, frozen in time, gently stroking the canine head, too absorbed in his thoughts to move. For the first time in a very long while, he felt almost warm, his mind enjoying the alien experience.

Peace never lasts, of course, especially not in the household of the Dursley's and Aunt Petunia 'woke' him half an hour later with an irritable tapping on his door. With a grumbling moan, he confirmed he was awake and swung his legs out of bed, grabbing some clothes and crossing the hall for a shower. Padfoot sleepily followed, pushing the bathroom door open with his muzzle as Harry disappeared behind the shower curtain. The door shut behind them, and Sirius, the man inside Padfoot's mind, blushed. He was certainly awake now. He sighed, the thought becoming a puff of dog breath. Day One, and he'd already walked in to a completely awkward situation without thought. Way to fuck things up, he thought to himself, sitting down with a canine eyeroll, pointedly facing away from Harry.

But then he was facing the toilet, which reminded him of the weight of his bladder. The sound of the running water teased his ears... He hadn't been let out to use the lawn since they'd left King's Cross. An involuntary whimper escaped him.

Harry poked his head around the curtain, and blushed. There were shampoo bubbles in his unruly hair, his guilty look a mixture of 'I didn't do it' and 'Oh shit, I'm so sorry.' "Um...do you want to...?" His croaky voice trailed off quickly.

Padfoot changed into Sirius in one fluid, mesmerising movement, grinning apologetically. He was wearing a loose grey t-shirt and faded blue jeans; bare feet. For just a moment Harry was shocked. Had his godfather always been so…

Harry blushed and disappeared behind the shower curtain. There was a very tense moment of silence until the flush of the loo sounded in the quiet room. After a while, Harry turned off the water and grabbed a towel, and Sirius, facing the door, asked what was for breakfast, talking quietly, just in case. He didn't get a spoken answer, but caught the shaken head and careless jerk of one shoulder in the steamy mirror. He scowled translating the gesture and hoping his stomach wouldn't protest to greatly. Did Harry ever get breakfast? No wonder he was so thin…

Once downstairs, the teenager and his dog stood in the hallway accepting a shopping list and a purse of pointedly counted money. Among the normal groceries on the list was the ambiguous title of 'Dog stuff'.

Seeing where he was reading, Petunia dropped the purse into his hand and snapped, "You're to buy him a lead and a collar. I don't want the neighbours thinking we're poor. You're to keep your dog under control, and tell people he was a gift from…us. Say you did well at St. Brutus' or something. And buy some dog food too. I have an old casserole dish he can eat from so there's no need to waste good money on a bowl, but I won't have him getting ill from eating scraps."

Harry nodded, stepping through the door, wondering if Aunt Petunia knew about Animagi. If she did maybe the knowledge was tainted by denial. It would explain her odd, nervy behaviour around Snuffles. Maybe she thought the dog was some kind of wizard spy, sent to check her house for any mistreatment. Dumbledore had tried to visit several times, so maybe.

The pair walked to the pet store first, Harry knowing he needn't leave Pad- no, Snuffles outside the shop. Inside, he was shocked to find such an array of collars and leads, all designed for the entertainment of the doting owner. Harry looked down at the dog.

"I'm sorry." Harry murmured looking down at him. _It's demeaning for you_. Snuffles shook his head ruffling up his fur, and nudged Harry's hand with his muzzle. He was trying not to think of the times Remus and he had played with collars, and the one that hiding the top draw of their bedroom at Grimmauld Place, along with various other unmentionable things. The dog stood, trying to clear his mind, nervous of his canine body's uncontrollable reactions.

_It's ok_, the amber brown eyes tried to communicate. He hadn't heard Harry over the noise of the shop, but he'd seen the lips move in the whisper. _Just pick something with attitude_. Snuffles nodded to a plain black collar with silver spikes. Harry looked at it, and snickered. The situation was ridiculous, but somehow Padfoot's presence made him feel safe.

_Because my Uncle wouldn't kill me for buying that...How about this one?_ He thought with an eyeroll, and pointed to an innocent blue collar with bones on.

Eventually they decided on a dark, almost faded, red leather one with a tarnished-look gold tag, with a matching lead. Harry made sure it was big enough, his fingers fumbling on the tarnished buckle, before stopping a third and fourth time to silently check that it was the right decision and that Sirius honestly didn't mind, before eventually paying.

The walk to get the groceries was pleasant enough, but when they arrived at their destination, Sirius point blank refused to be left outside, especially tied up. Harry didn't blame him and didn't try to force him, but wouldn't allow him to risk being seen as a human and being reported. He wasn't sure if Sirius knew the muggles had been told when he was 'at large'. Eventually, after coming to the conclusion that today would not be the day a suitable compromise would be found, Snuffles sat outside the large glass windows and avidly watched Harry's every step, growling at anyone that came to close, but never removing his eyes from Harry. For his part, the younger Gryffindor stayed determinedly in his sight, which took quite a bit of careful manoeuvring and apologies due to all the people swarming and barging around. He also kept his promise of only taking ten minutes, and sat on the bench for a moment afterwards allowing the hound to thoroughly sniff through the bag of readymade meals and junk food he'd hoped would be to Sirius' taste, knowing that if nothing else, it would appeal to his sweet tooth.

Then it started to rain, the moody grey sky dappled with sunlight and dark clouds. They walked back at a leisurely pace, Harry choosing a route through the park to let Sirius off the lead to play at. He had to laugh; the dog certainly seemed overjoyed to be out in the rain. A summer with out Grimmauld Palace must be heaven for him. Vaguely Harry wondered whether Sirius had been out in the rain since Azkaban, but he pushed the thought away, preferring to watch the large black mutt tear about after rabbits, veering off seconds before he caught them to tumble and roll in the wet grass.

When they got back to the Dursley's house, they were both drenched. Sirius was panting, dripping mud, and, he thought with a gulp, looking at the clock above the kitchen door, they were about an hour and a half late. _Shit._

"So, _boy_," The word was spat. "Decided to come home, have we?" Uncle Vernon's voice was soft and menacing.

Sirius growled at the tone, the grin gone.

"You've ruined Duddy's dinner!" Aunt Petunia's voice was shrill and overruled his Uncle's. What, in his head, Harry called her tantrum voice. "Vernon brings him home, and because of your incompetence, he has no celebration! You just have to ruin everything, don't you? Not even a cake for him because you had to buy the eggs! He's probably in his room, crying his eyes out! How would it make you feel, to be so unloved?" Her voice rose an octave with every word, and Harry winced. She sounded genuinely upset, something he never heard before.

"Take your vile dog upstairs, put the shopping away, and then clean those muddy foot prints off my nice clean carpet! I expect to hear you apologizing to Dudley as well! Imagine how he feels, going without his favourite dinner. And you can get all that dog hair out of your Uncles car from yesterday too!" Harry just nodded, kicked of his trainers and put down most of the shopping bags, nudging the dog upstairs, ignoring the canine's look. Padfoot moved, but not willingly. He'd been growling at Petunia, moving between them and soon as Harry shut the door he was human, his mouth open to speak.

"Let me -"

"No." Harry said flatly, walking across the room and pulling off his damp shirt. His voice was so final… "If they found out, they'd make you go. They'd make me go, and Dumbledore would be pissed at you, along with everyone else." There was a strange tone of bitterness in his voice and he crossed the room again, shutting the door behind him as he left. "That… That was nothing unusual; you shouldn't let it bother you. I don't."

Sirius looked into the mirror of the still open wardrobe door, and sighed heavily, his hair hanging forward into his face.

_I'm supposed to protect you, Harry_, he thought staring at his reflection before forming into the dog. _I'm not supposed to be something they can blackmail you with. Something you can be blamed for._ He sighed again and sat down, curling up by the wall. From her cage, Hedwig cooed softly. There were two bags on the end of Harry's bed. His stomach growled, but he didn't feel hungry anymore. That was the most Harry had said all year, he should have been jumping for joy. Instead, he just felt cold. The black haired dog sighed again, becoming human. His godson's voice should not have sounded so defeated and beaten. He was only sixteen, and yet he…he sounded like he was ready to give up, even before the fighting had really begun. Sirius frowned, drawing his knees to his chest, and hugging them. As much as he'd be wishing for Harry to speak, that wasn't the voice he wanted to hear, and it was one he cared never to hear ever again.

--

Harry's feet were ten ton weights by the time he'd nearly done all the tasks Aunt Petunia had set, and then made pancakes for them all at Dudley's request, with ice-cream and extra syrup that Harry had to run out to the corner shop to get. Of course, for being late, he didn't get any food, and although that punishment was expected, it didn't stop the smell taunting him, and making his mouth water. He hadn't eaten all day. What was worse was being made to stay in the kitchen whilst the Dursley's ate to do the cleaning up. He sighed heavily; the smell was probably taunting Sirius a lot more than him. He was used to being hungry. The man always seemed to really enjoy his food.

Harry moved out into the hall after washing up, to clean away the footprints left by Padfoot's muddy feet when Uncle Vernon stepped out of the living room. He had the manic grin that said Harry was about to be yelled at. His face was already turning red with what Harry knew to be repressed rage. Dudley's face appeared at the kitchen door, looking pleased.

"If I hear one sound out of you or that dog," The man advanced, once single, fat stubby finger was jabbing Harry in the chest. "One bark" _Poke._ "One whimper" _Poke._ "One" _Poke_ "Goddamn" _Poke_ "Squeak" _Poke_ "out of place and you'll be out do you hear? You'll both be out and you'll never ever come back." That sentence snarled, accompanied by a barrage of random pokes.

"I don't care what that crackpot-old-fool says, this is my house and what I say goes. Alright?" All of this was hissed in the same poisonous tone, through clenched, yellowing teeth with splattering of spit, food, and the obnoxious odour of his breath. His face was too close to Harry's, so the boy could barely nod without a collision, and Harry bit his tongue to avoid any witty remarks that burned to escape. "Remember that boy." A glare, slapped pat to the face, and then the sweaty stench of the man was gone. The living room door slammed as he departed, and he heard his aunt remonstrating him from within for disturbing her film.

Harry let out a breath, and looked for the first footprint. There were none. Confused, Harry looked up the stairs, none there either. He frowned, then took the stairs three at a time to his room. Snuffles was curled in a corner, seemingly asleep, but jumped up when the door swung open, eyes alert.

"Tell me you didn't use magic!"

Snuffles stood in one movement and walked round the bed, nosing the door shut, before allowing his human form to rise next to Harry.

"There's no need to worry Harry, I wore James' cloak, and got out the way when fat-boy came rumbling past. Twice." Harry still glared. Sirius sighed, and took a dramatic, wounded stance. "No, I didn't use magic." He smiled rolled his eyes innocently at Harry's look, and Harry felt his annoyance melt away. "So, what do they find to feed lardie on if they can't give you breakfast?" Harry shrugged, and Sirius reached for the bags. "Shall we eat? I was waiting for you." There was a moment's pause. Harry's impassive look didn't shift. "Oh yeah, and you have mail. It came about half an hour ago. I think it's from Remus."

Harry raised an eyebrow, interested. _Why?_

Sirius' grin grew mysterious. "I tried to get the letters for you but the thing keeps attacking me. "

He pointed to a smallish tawny owl sitting at the open window and Harry moved to detach its stack of letters - all carefully collected and checked by the Order. Harry sighed, and placed them on the corner of his desk, not bothering to flick through them to see who had written. He didn't usually get mail, and it would probably be full of false sentiment anyway, a written version of those plastic grins, squashed onto a page so he couldn't avoid them.

_Tomorrow._ He sat down on his bed and kicking off his trainers. _I need sleep._ His stomach growled loudly.

"Didn't you just eat?" Sirius asked, sniffing the air.

Harry jerked his head; neither a nod or a shake and Sirius passed him a couple of chocolate bars from the bag. Obviously not.

"You know, I became addicted to these things when I moved out. You really should have brought coffee, though. I'm really sleepy in the mornings, I never know what I'm doing." He grinned.

Harry nodded, getting up to find his pyjamas, briefly reminded of the morning's incident. _Next time, I'll remember some._ He vowed to himself. The indifferent look didn't change.

The silence began to drag and Harry glanced over his shoulder at Sirius. There was something dreadfully endearing about Sirius black sprawled across his bed eating chocolate, and he felt something stir in his stomach. _It's nice to have company._

"Why don't you talk to me about this place?" Sirius asked, noticing the glance as Harry sat pushed back the covers and swung his legs up.

Harry's only reply was a non-committal shrug. Sirius let out a sigh, and noticed with a scowl that none of the food he'd given the boy was being eaten. He scowled, and poked Harry who squirmed.

"Eat something."

Harry stomach growled again, but he didn't bother to respond. Soon after, Sirius realized the boy was asleep and his frown deepened, the harsh orange glow of the streetlight catching the contours of his tired face.


	3. Chapter 3 : Difference

No, or at least, not so many notes for this one

I may update again tonight, I may not. As you can see, this was just an edit. Spot things for me to fix.

**Aphasia**

**Chapter 3 : Differance**

_Padfoot, you blithering idiot._ Sirius grinned. He could practically feel the gentle slap upside the head, and the good-natured eye roll that accompanied these words. The letter on the side had been calling him to read it all night. He just knew there would be one in the pile Harry received for him, and he was happily correct. He was also correct in knowing who it was from. _Remus._

_I have never met a man who is so insistent in his confusion of reckless stupidity and safe, well thought out, Order-approved plans. Mrs Weasley will in no doubt kill you when you return, if she reaches you before me. However, I spoke with Dumbledore, and persuaded him that your position there will be beneficial as I assume it is your intention to protect Harry from whatever muted him. It seems that for now, he is content for you to stay there. The twins send you their heartiest congratulations for distracting their charming mother long enough for them to do I-don't-want-to-know-what. _Sirius couldn't repress a grin.

_Anyway, I've been added to the watch rota, so I assume you'll know when I'm there. Unfortunately, I think it has been deemed counter productive for me to work night shifts, mainly due to Snape's disapproval (I told you we should have sound-proofed the bedroom when he stayed). Also, I've been told to inform you by Dumbledore that he deems it wise for you endeavour to teach Harry how to become an Animagi, as he knows you are one, but not how or why you learnt (and I shall not be telling him). I've been given permission to check up on you, and there are progress reports expected weekly by the Order. Obviously, magic will be necessary for you both, and while the Trace cannot and will not be removed from Harry until he turns seventeen, he has been made exempt from some of the underage magic restrictions, when performing necessary magic, or that which you are trying to teach him. The ministry have been informed he has an (unnamed) Animagus guard with him so any magic you find it necessary to perform will not be remarked upon. The magic of Harry's transformations will be attributed as yours. _

_Regardless, I must go to bed now, pitifully alone, and imagine how best to welcome (or otherwise) you on your return. Sleep well._

Sirius smiled and hugged the paper to his chest, suddenly himself to miss his Moony. The paper felt familiar carrying the faint smell of Remus and their bedroom on it. There was a lot in the letter to make him happy – teaching Harry to be an Animagi was something he and James had imagined even before they left Hogwarts. Also, the allowance of magic was useful; obviously the Stature of Secrecy would limit it a little in a house full of muggles, but he'd…he'd be able to make proper food for Harry, and find a way to actually be useful, in a real proper way!

The thought came to him suddenly and he leapt up. All he could do! Nothing could touch the muggles of course, but in this bedroom, he could do so much! He smiled happily digging in his the pocket of his scruffy jeans for Remus' old wand that he could never quite call his own. Harry's face when he awoke! It would be great! Sirius could finally do something right! Something to be a proper godfather! Maybe he could get Harry to finally smile!

He grinned and summoned a quill from the desk to scribble down an excited, and perhaps slightly cheeky reply. He hated to think of Remus sleeping in their bedroom alone, especially with the moon rising with the werewolf's appetites. He really wanted to be there, for the night of the full moon, if for nothing else. He should be there, his lover needed him, he'd always been there… but then, Harry's need right now was greater, wasn't it? Somewhere within the man, a guilty knot twisted and writhed, and a troubled frown flitted across his brow. He couldn't leave his Remus alone to face the full moon, when it came. He'd promised; Moony needed Padfoot…but then Harry needed Padfoot, and that was a promise too.

Sirius sighed as conflict pulled at his heart. If he could just get Harry to Grimmauld Place for a while, just an overnight stay would do… Surely a change of scenery would do the teenager good, give him some fresh air or something, but then there was always a chance he would regress and lose those few fragile words he had gained. It wasn't as if the Black family home was a cheerful, relaxing place to be. The longhaired man sighed again, heavily. That night, he stood for a very long time at the window, curtain pulled back, gazing out into the orange-tainted sky. There had to be a way…

He rose out of his thoughts slowly, with the sun. The routine of domestic noise started around him, Petunia rising for the first shower, and the gentle whine of the milk float passing by. Sirius, a silent note within it, stood like a statue. The night had told him lots. This suburban paradise was hell, quaintly disguised in vulgar chintz cushions and manicured lawns. As a boy, he had dreamed of living somewhere like this, a normal house, not necessarily a Muggle one, just an ordinary one. One where he wasn't the once-doted upon heir who betrayed his family at the tender age of eleven, or the clown hated by the spare who once idolised his every step.

Still, nothing could be done about the past, he thought, sighing heavily again. This was Harry's hell and now he, Sirius Black, had the power to change it. The wand, Remus' wand, was still held loosely between his fingers, and he flicked an idle spell at the door.

--

Harry was running hard through a vast jungle. The air was clammy; he couldn't escape it. Everything was steely black, and shone, an evil metallic glint in harsh light. The acrid burn of smouldering metal assaulted his nostrils, stupefying his senses as he blindly ran.

Everything hurt. Everything was made of metal – leaves torn at his bare flesh, branches reached out to tear at him, things stabbed in his feet. He was being attacked from all sides. Every stride, he ran faster. Was anything behind him? He didn't know; he couldn't look. He couldn't stop running and catch his breath. He had to run, to get away. He had to keep running.

Then, a precipice, a terrible end to the path that stretched into darkness. Oblivion.

He needed to run. The smooth metal rocks looked soothing and wet, but they were burning hot. His bare feet ached. Behind him, the jungle started to fall away, stretching back becoming distant like a dream…

Fierce white overtook the sky. The jungle melted away into darkness, and for a moment Harry was hypnotised, watching it melt back. The pain was increasing. His feet. He gasped and looked down. The white was taking over everything, leaving him balanced on the edge of razor blade, a simple line of deadly black. He couldn't move.

Then, the dream changed, quite suddenly in fact. Suddenly he was no longer surrounded by dark or light, just undulating blue mist. The pain was diminishing also, fading away as if it had never been. A warm, homely smell drifted across to him. Frying bacon…

Suddenly, a giant fried egg appeared, out of nowhere, so fast it was as if his imagination had summoned it. He laughed, the noise sudden, odd to his ears. How else could one react when confronted with a foodstuff of such disproportionate size? The egg, somehow, managed to take on a rather offended look, and was joined by a giant pair of twin sausages and a rather forlorn looking grey mushroom, also of gigantic size. Harry stared.

"Harry…Harry, wake up." Something nudged into his shoulder. The first thing tired green eyes saw was Sirius' smiling face, and thoughtlessly returned it, sitting up. He'd never seen his godfather's hair tied back before, and decided he liked it caught in the loose, scruffy bun, revealing the elegant curve of his neck.

"Here, breakfast." Sirius said kindly, placing a warm plate onto his lap and handing him a knife and fork. Harry, mind still fogged with the confusion of sleep took a few mouthfuls before frowning slightly.

"How did you do this?"

Sirius grinned, "Magic," and winked.

Harry fixed his godfather with a look that made the older man snort with laughter, as he took a bite out of a piece of toast.

"A mixture of transfiguration and delicate cookery charms." The man said with a mysterious smile that caused an odd flutter in Harry's stomach. "I received a letter. The ministry are allowing magic here as they've been told you have an wizard body-guard. So I thought I'd help." Harry looked around his room, which although noticeably larger had gained a few curious additions. Sirius followed the green-eyed gaze to the large oven, and grinned.

"I transfigured the things you bought yesterday into healthier food, that Remus wouldn't kill me for feeding you. Don't worry though, I'll transfigure your desk back later."

Harry smiled. _He's a good cook_, he thought. Then swallowed and repeated himself in a shy murmur. "You're a good cook."

Sirius returned the smile enthusiastically, spearing a sausage on the end of his fork. "I'm glad you approve."

There was no time for a shower when Aunt Petunia came pounding on the door, but Harry felt awake. A crafty veil spell kept the smell of Harry's breakfast contanined, and if need would also conceal everything out of place in Harry's room. With Snuffles at his side he felt like he could do anything, and even Uncle Vernon's comments seemed to bounce off unregarded. Food gave him vigour, and he worked humming, Sirius at his side playing the part of the loyal, playful puppy.

'Clean the car' was next on the list of jobs to do, and as Snuffles stepped into the front garden slightly ahead of Harry, the door slammed shut, leaving the dog outside.

"Boy." Uncle Vernon's angry acknowledgement. A mobile phone was squeezed in his ruddy, clenched fist. "Aunt Marge, my dear sister, has insisted upon a visit. Ripper has died."

The news, hitting Harry like a punch, left him speechless. He gulped. Aunt Marge was never good news. In his third year, the visit… He didn't hear Padfoot's angry barks, or his scratching at the door.

"She comes in a few days, and is staying for a week. I want you to call your freaky little friends and stay with them for all, if not most of that time." His tone was less menacing than usual, but it was a command, not a choice. Harry opened his mouth to speak. There was no way he could –

"If not, you stay in your cupboard. With the mutt."

The front door was opened and Harry pushed out, onto Padfoot, who barked and snapped his teeth at the hand behind the door. Behind him, Harry didn't move, just sat in silent panic.


	4. Chapter 4 : Dashed Dreams

No, or at least, not so many notes for this one

An update. I go to France on Thursday (yay!) so I'm hoping to post five before then, and I'll have lots of time on the boat/plane/coach/magic carpet/Knight Bus to write chap seven and beyond (Up to chap Six has been rewritten or edited (although five and six need to be typed up)). And yes, you might notice, I don't make things easy for the boys – do you think I over-complicate or add interest? The complications have a point, but I worry I'm being dull.

**Aphasia**

**Chapter 4 : Dashed Dreams**

"Sir, with all due respect, removing Mr. Potter from this location at this time is most unwise for his safety, and your own." Sturgis Podmore, an officious little ministry wizard stood in the centre of the Dursley's living room, in a dull grey suit. The man was almost entirely bald with a domed head, and a very steady monotonous voice. Everything about him was boring and seemed so very ordinary - Harry assumed this was why Dumbledore had selecting him. He watched his uncle deflate like a punctured tyre. There was no way the manager of a drill company could angry with someone quite so ordinary, that wasn't a trembling underling.

Sat next to the green-eyed boy, Padfoot was sulking. As soon as Harry had shared his news, speaking in grave, shocked tones, he had been overjoyed. It was the perfect excuse! Harry needing a temporary place to stay, and Remus needed him Home! It would have been perfect. They could of stayed in Grimmauld Place, or even Remus' little cottage in the country. At the thought of it, he'd started a joyous water fight, and although considerably disadvantaged, he managed to get Harry rather soaked as they torn bout on the front lawn. It was the first time Sirius had heard Harry laugh, and it was that, more than anything, that helped his mood soar.

However, the happiness had come crashing down all too suddenly. Letters had been sent. At the Order HQ there had been a flurry of activities and meetings, debates and discussions, whilst Harry and Sirius paced, confined for their fun. Finally the answer had come – no. Now, a few days later all the arguments in the world had led to nothing more that a migraine for Harry, and the tracks Sirius had paced into the thin carpet.

Vernon snorted at the little wizard's words. "You mean your lot don't want him either. Don't you know what this little freak did to my sister the lasted time she was here?" He sighed, and stood placing his hands on his hips. He missed the looks of outrage that sprung to the faces of every wizard in the room. Sirius had stood. "He can't stay here. He's a menace. You people should lock him away. Last time Marge was here, your lot had to wipe her memory." Sirius' growl became audible, and Harry's hand moved automatically to stroke him, but his hand collided with another, and he jumped back. Since other wizards had arrived he maintained the expected silence, ignoring Padfoot's nudges to speak but golden eyes were calm and Remus smiled.

Harry felt himself return it, blushing slightly.

"It's not a case of -" The little wizard tried, but found his audience admiring the photos on the mantle piece. Aunt Petunia, ever the gracious host, even in the face of wizards, was handing round a plate of biscuits. The wizards barely announced arrival seemed to her to confirm that the dog was a wizard spy, and now she looked at it, with scared, poisonous glares. Kingsley Shacklebolt decided to take over and cleared his throat. He didn't need to stand to get peoples attention.

"The nature of the enchantment" The word, Harry learnt, that wasn't on Aunt Petunia's banned list and didn't make Uncle Vernon flinch so fast he cricked his neck, as its replacement, magic, would have. "is that Harry needs to spend approximately four weeks of the year." Someone heaved a sigh. "Also, Harry must spend the first two of his holiday here for various reasons. Harry has been home for about a week, so therefore has another week here at least before we can move him."

"But Marge's trip is in days!"

"That is unfortunate, but unavoidable." Kingsley gave a great shuddering sigh, glancing sadly at Harry.

"So, he will be here of half it." Remus had taken over, staring levelly into Vernon Dursley eyes "However, as soon as it is feasible, I will arrange for Harry to be picked up at a time that is convenient to you."

Harry showed them wordlessly to the door. Before he left, Remus made a big fuss of Padfoot, bending to tickle his tummy and letting the dog clamber over him, slobbering, and pulled Harry into a brief hug.

"I'll see you in a week, Harry. Remember not to let that big mutt worry." Harry nodded.

"Thank you…" He whispered, barely audible.

The werewolf walked down the drive to where Kinsley was starting a red Citroen, and turned, as he opened the door.

"And remember to keep you temper in check. Both of you."

The golden haired man was amazed Harry had spoken. It had been a whisper, fragile, but still words. He had known Sirius would be the man to help, but could repress the tiniest twinge of something in his heart – his wolf told him to be jealous and protective of his pack, but for once, his human found the power to eradicate the feeling. He knew Harry needed Sirius as much as him, if not more.

--

"Maybe we could go up to London for a few days. It's been a while since we went up there. We could get Dudley something nice for his birthday." Aunt Petunia was sipping tea, perched on the edge of the sofa. She had an odd crumpled look on her face, as if the wizards had left a particularly bad smell in her living room that she could do nothing to remove. What would the neighbours think?

Uncle Vernon snorted. "And have them take over the house? No way. What if the house was blown up by the time we got back?"

"But Dudley's a man now. If we took Harry's…thingie, what could the boy do? He's so skinny." Petunia smiled. She was starting to imagine a short stay at the Hilton, walking arm in arm with Vernon along Oxford Street on as spectacular shopping spree. "Dudley's always been able to keep the boy in his place."

Vernon nodded at this, a proud smile spreading across his face. "My boy's got an excellent right hook. It was what won his last competition."

Aunt Petunia smiled a little more widely. Her mind was on a dress she seen in a magazine. Maybe they could have a romantic dinner at the Ritz, and they simply _must_ go to a show…

"I'm sure if we asked Miss Figg to look in occasionally, everything would be fine. Dudley's so responsible, he'd phone every night, I'm sure."

Vernon was nodding. "Alright." He didn't want his sister being blown up again. A few days in London with his wife, that had its advantages, would give him something to show-off to his colleges about if they went somewhere nice… Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. "Alright. It can be a surprise for Marge." He said, not noticing his wallet wince inside his pocket. Aunt Petunia's eyes flashed in victory. "I'll book us a nice hotel if you'll find out the day he goes."

The thin woman stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her husband's head. Her lipstick smile was wide, and greedy.

"Thank you dear. I'll go make you a nice cup of tea."

--

"So, what's this Marge woman like?" Sirius asked, from atop Harry's desk. The two of them were back in Harry's bedroom, back to being grounded.

"Horrible." Harry said shortly, then gave a look that plainly read _How do I do this?_ He stood in the centre of his room, the furniture pushed back, as neither Harry nor Sirius could predict what animal he would become.

"You have to focus. You know the theory – find the centre of yourself, and urge yourself to become…"

Harry nodded and shut his eyes. Find his centre and become…

There was a terse knock, at the door. Instantly, Sirius was Padfoot again, and the veil spell activated over the room. The dog jumped off the desk, and Aunt Petunia stuck her head round the door.

"Vernon is taking me to stay in London to meet Marge. You will be staying here with Dudley, and I want you to make sure he eats three good square meals a day, which I am leaving you to cook. As soon as your lot tell you when they want you, I need to know."

Harry nodded, trying not to look too pleased at this, too guilty or innocent. The wand was lying on his bedside table, and Aunt Petunia's eyes shot to it suddenly, wide and fearful.

"And I'll be taking that as well." Her hand shot out and snatched it, just as Harry moved to stop her. Long red talons held the thin wood against her chest. "I don't want you putting any nasty-" her voice dropped to a whisper, "spells on my beautiful son whilst we're gone." She shut the door with a snap, stepping out of both Harry and the dogs reach. Sirius transformed angrily and reached for the door handle – it wouldn't budge.

"Give the bloody thing back!" He roared, hammering on the door. Harry, equally outraged, pounded on the door a few times then turned and slumped down onto his bed.

Over at the window, and owl arrived, squawking discontentedly at the racket Sirius was making, who had taken to punctuating his pounding with a few frustrated kicks. Seeing the owl, he stopped, and moodily stalked across to the room, snatching the letter from its beak. It gave him a reproachful glare before gliding over to Hedwig's empty cage and gulping down some water. The black-haired man handed the letter to Harry, dropping next to him on the bed. Harry shifted closer.

"Tuesday…" the boy murmured after reading the letter.

Sirius nodded. "Four days until the full moon." He sighed heavily and rolled onto his side. "Three days after."

There was a long pause. Somebody sighed again.

"He'll be ok." Harry said, moving his hand to rest on Sirius' side. "He still gets that potion, right?"

Sirius nodded. "Wolfsbane." He let out another involuntary sigh, not liking to think of Moony on his own, even if the madness of his disease was contained. He still needed a distraction. Regardless of a werewolf's violent temperament when unaided by Wolfsbane Potion, it still wasn't a solitary creature. Sirius remembered that so clearly, sitting in the back on Defense Against the Dark Arts next to James and watching Remus, who suddenly raised his hand, clutching his quill and corrected the Professor, that despite common beliefs werewolves were actually pack animals and therefore social creatures instead of anti-social monsters. Back then, he didn't understand what had given Remus' voice the irritated tone or made him clench his fist so hard a blotch of ink splattered out unnoticed onto his immaculate notes. Nor did he understand Remus' painfully obvious implication that the teacher was stupid as well as sadly misinformed, that had earnt the student his first ever detention (and only, if it hadn't been for an unfortunate incident in the library that ended with him and Sirius getting a long lecture about appropriate conduct from both Professor McGonagall, and the librarian.) It had been the silent anger in his posture at that moment that had made Sirius attentive to the subtle changes in his mood over time, and the barely noticeable need for contact with those he considered his Pack combined with the paralysing fear of it when it came from others. It had been Sirius that had linked his absences to the moon, and held his secret silently until James worked it out and forced them to confront him. Since then, apart from Azkaban, most moons were spent together, Padfoot and Moony – mates, lovers and Pack. To a werewolf, Pack was the most important thing of all.

He sighed and rolled back over. Harry was lying on his side. Sirius couldn't see his face.

"Will you be able to get your wand back?"

The boy shook his head. "No. They lock my school stuff in the cupboard under the stairs, and they'll probably take it with them."

"Why?"

Harry pulled a 'that's obvious' face. "They hate magic, especially since the third year."

"What happened?"

"I blew up my Aunt."

Sirius snorted. "How about we play chess?" Harry nodded. Sirius picked the discarded set up from its place on the floor, and gathered a few of the stay pieces. They played in silence for a while then -

"Can you be human when they're gone? Like, not in here? Dudley won't be around much, so…"

Sirius smiled, nodding, secretly relieved. "I was beginning to think you liked Padfoot better."

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. "Why?"

Sirius shrugged. "You talk to him more." He didn't say how Harry wasn't afraid of the physical contact between himself and the dog. The boy shrugged also.

"I didn't notice."


End file.
